


the little princess

by hwallrics



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Crying, Established Relationship, Femininity, Gender Confusion, Gender Identity, Gender Related, Halloween Costumes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27324763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwallrics/pseuds/hwallrics
Summary: today, they were preparing to film a halloween special ofcome on! the boyz, and one of the things they had been instructed to do was choose a costume. other members had chosen things like vampire, policeman, doctor, etc. to make them look good for the fans, and eric,stupideric, had chosenprincess.
Relationships: Lee Sangyeon/Son Youngjae | Eric
Comments: 13
Kudos: 88





	the little princess

**Author's Note:**

> hello and happy halloween! this is just a cute little thing, but it delves into gender feelings kind of heavily and might border on gender dysphoria/euphoria so if that might make you uncomfortable... you know the drill! thanks for reading <3

the dress is beautiful. when eric first sees it, he fails to hold back a gasp as his hands come up to touch the material. the outside of it is rough, covered in a layer of some kind of blue-white fabric that makes the whole dress shine and glitter. underneath that layer, however, is a silvery blue silk, so smooth to the touch that he wonders why and how the stylists had bought him something so obviously expensive, just for this one time use.

the neckline of the dress is what worries him the most. it’s a band of silk—same color as the rest of the dress—that runs from shoulder to shoulder, pointing down into a _v_ shape in the middle. just looking at it makes him feel overly conscious of how wide his shoulders are. normally, he loves his shoulders, but right now they feel like an obstruction. he knows that the dress will make him look like a giant and he feels panic rising in his chest. he was an idiot for choosing this costume.

today, they were preparing to film a halloween special of _come on! the boyz_ , and one of the things they had been instructed to do was choose a costume. it was usually funny when idols dressed up in costumes, as a few of the members would inevitably choose something ridiculous. however, they were also given free reign to choose something more attractive and have the stylists create the outfit for them. other members had chosen things like vampire, policeman, doctor, etc. to make them look good for the fans, and eric, _stupid_ eric, had chosen _princess._

at the time, all those weeks ago, it had seemed like a good idea. all the fans knew that he had dressed up as a princess before, and he’d jokingly call himself one too. they thought it was cute and sweet, and eric didn’t mind the way they fawned over him. but the last time he had done this, it had been some cheap, imitation, disney princess dress, scratchy and plastic and horrible, and he had been a little kid. this was much more than just a joke.

the stylists had chosen this dress for him, but they’d also chosen long, white silk gloves; an expensive looking necklace that looked like it was made of diamonds but probably wasn’t; earrings of the same kinds of jewels; _a long blonde wig_ ; and to top it all off, a little tiara. he wanted to die, just a little bit, seeing it all together and laid out on one of the tables.

eric felt like it was over the top, and something kept prickling at the back of his mind that they were doing this to him on purpose, that they had somehow found out how much he liked it and were planning to publicly humiliate him. on a rational level, he knew how stupid that was. he had asked for the costume _himself_ and the stylists had just done their duty and gone all out like they were supposed to.

the stylists help him into the dress, and he feels vulnerable in how they stare at him and giggle and call him pretty in that cooing tone, like he’s a child. even so, all of the flattery makes his cheeks dust pink. when they zip up the back of the dress, he’s surprised at how well it fits. it’s _perfect_ , like it was made for him, and the cut of it makes him look small and feminine. the smallest part of the dress is tight but not uncomfortable, showing off how tiny his waist is. then, just below his waist, the skirt bubbles over like a waterfall flowing down his legs, making them seem longer. it’s a loose and comfortable skirt with multiple layers and plenty of room to move, but it’s typical of a princessy gown in that it’s still big and clunky.

they still have to do his makeup and hair, and when he sits in the chair to let them, he catches sight of himself in the mirror. he doesn’t know how to feel. right now he just looks odd, out of place, being barefaced with his short, unstyled hair. he looks like a regular boy in a dress that’s too fancy for him. he doesn’t like what he sees, and turns his eyes away to let the stylists do their work.

the makeup feels natural, because he wears it almost every day, but they go a little bit farther than usual in an attempt to make him look more feminine to match his outfit. they don’t go _too_ far, not aiming for humorous but actually pretty, and eric still can’t make himself look.

when it comes to the wig, that’s when he worries the most. the one thing he hasn’t done before, _truly_ hasn’t done before, the thing that seals the entire image he’s about to present. the one they’ve chosen is really nice, nicer than necessary, and they attach it to his head with such precision that it feels almost permanent. they fix the way that the hair falls unnaturally and actually style it. he can feel the softness of the hair as it brushes his bare shoulders and tries not to shiver at the unfamiliar feeling.

they finish up after what seems like a long time, eric acutely aware that he’s the only one left in the room out of all of the members. the stylist—there’s only one of them left now—hands him the accessories for the outfit: jewelry, gloves, tiara. she helps him put them on, and he tries not to let his eyes linger on the way his arm looks going into the glove, how it makes him feel so regal and _important_. he wiggles his fingers to get them settled in the gloves as the stylist presses the tiara onto his head, making sure it’s in the right position.

just like that, the look is complete.

of course, the stylist is gushing over him and grinning at the fruits of her labor, trying to usher him over to a mirror. his heart pounds so hard he can barely understand a word she’s saying, and then suddenly, he sees himself.

he looks—he looks _beautiful_ , and he knows it. and he hates the way that seeing himself like this makes hot tears fill his eyes so quickly, but it _does_. it’s just—it’s a million things, and eric doesn’t know how to articulate them if he tries. it’s the dress and how it fits him, making him look smaller rather than bigger like he had assumed it would, it’s how the accessories fill in all the blank spots like dollops of paint on an empty canvas, it’s how the beautiful waves of the wig come to rest on his shoulders, minimizing how wide they are. it’s how the gems glimmer around his neck, on his ears, on the crown of his head, and it’s how the gloves, a beautiful milky white, somehow make his arms look so _dainty_ where he thought they’d be hulking and obvious.

the stylist is talking to him, saying something, but the tears are coming fast and he knows that if he keeps looking at himself, what he’s feeling and thinking will show in his face. and right now he can’t pretend to be lighthearted about it and make a joke about how he looks like a girl, because _god_ he looks like a _girl_ and it’s killing him, eating him up from the inside and somehow making him feel so whole.

eric walks away from the mirror and over to one of the random chairs scattered about the messy dressing room. the stylist seems confused as to why he’s not answering her, why he isn’t leaving to join the others, why he sits down and takes a glove off so he can wipe at his tears as casually as possible before they leave his eyes. she’s asking him what’s wrong, she’s being so, so _nice_ but she isn’t what he needs right now.

his voice cracks when he asks her to give him a minute, just a minute and he’ll be okay, he’s just tired, but he knows she doesn’t buy it and she rushes off somewhere. it takes all of the energy he has to stifle his sobs and stop the tears from flowing, and it hurts in his heart and his throat with the effort, but he can’t let go because then people will _see_.

people will see what he is, and tell him. yes, it’s a cliché, but he’s all too familiar with the words people use to drag him down. when he was younger, he would happily tell others how much he liked pretty things, but being called _freak_ one too many times made sure that he locked it away where it shouldn’t have ever been found. he doesn’t know what made him slip up and tell people, so publicly, something that even vaguely hints at it, but it happened, and here he is, all alone, trying to rectify the damage he’s done to himself. 

he’s trying to get a handle on his tears, trying to swallow the overwhelming wave of emotions down and hide them away, because he knows he has to go and join the others. but even the _thought_ of the others seeing him like this, or the countless staff who will see him, sends another wave crashing through and choking him. he makes an awful noise trying to keep it contained, but he manages.

and then—sangyeon walks in.

seeing him just makes eric’s heart break more and he folds in on himself seconds after meeting sangyeon’s eyes. he can’t stop the tears now, and he _knows,_ he knows sangyeon will _see_ and think he’s disgusting. he knows it’s over, between them. he buries his face in his hands as he sobs—other glove removed long ago—and tries not to listen to the way sangyeon comforts him. he doesn’t want to let the words in, too sweet for his aching heart, but they worm their way through his weak defenses anyway.

sangyeon crouches on the floor in front of him and pries his hands away, puts his own hands on eric’s cheeks instead and wipes away his tears. eric still can’t look at him and looks at his hands instead, sitting uselessly in his lap. he picks at the skin of his cuticles as sangyeon tries to calm him down. just his presence there is soothing enough—and his blind panic settles into more of a gnawing and persistent anxiety.

when sangyeon can tell that he’s calm enough to speak, he asks: “eric, what’s wrong? why are you crying?” and his voice is so genuine, so loving, that it takes everything eric has to not let another tear slip out.

“i don’t—i don’t know,” he finally answers, forcing the words through his shaky voice, still unsettled and trying to unwind itself from the aftereffects of his meltdown. he takes in a deep breath— “it’s just…” he shakes his head and lowers it again. he can’t say it.

“you don’t have to tell me; i just want you to feel better, okay?” sangyeon leaves his hand on eric’s cheek despite the tears being mostly dried up and moves his other one to tuck the loose strands of long hair behind his ear. it feels weirdly intimate and personal and _nice_ , that his hair is long enough to be tucked like that, and that sangyeon is doing it for him so tenderly.

“i—i like it, a lot.”

“then why are you crying, baby? shouldn’t you be smiling?” sangyeon pinches eric’s cheek, so lightly that it does make eric smile just a little.

“because—isn’t it weird? that i like it?” eric can’t help but let his smile waver no matter how kind and understanding sangyeon is being. he keeps messing with his fingers to avoid twisting his hands in the fabric of his dress and possibly wrinkling it. god, _his_ dress. it’s his.

“i don’t think it’s weird. i think you look really pretty and if you like it, that’s all that matters.” and at those words, it feels like a flower blooms inside of eric’s chest. he can’t help the smile that takes him over. sangyeon called him _pretty_. eric knew he looked pretty but hearing it come from someone else’s mouth, _sangyeon’s_ mouth, made it real.

sangyeon smiles back at him, and then gives a quick glance around the room. after confirming that no one is around, he leans in and gives eric a kiss. it’s soft, like he thinks eric is something precious, and he lingers just long enough to convey everything he wants eric to know.

“i feel lucky.” sangyeon says. he looks bashful, a light blush on his cheeks. “i just got to kiss the prettiest princess i’ve ever seen.”

the line is cheesy, but it makes eric go red and shy anyway. he smiles so wide that it hurts and tries to cover it up with a hand, but sangyeon grabs it and holds his hands instead.

only then does eric notice sangyeon’s costume—he’s dressed in a white doublet with gold buttons up the center and gold epaulettes on each shoulder. there’s a red belt around his waist, and a fake sword attached to it, scabbard and all. the outfit is complete with white pants and very fancy short black boots, which are tucked under the hem of his pants. it takes eric a minute to take it all in, before looking back up at sangyeon and seeing the glittering crown on his head. then, it sinks in.

“your costume… are you—?”

“a prince, i know,” sangyeon says, flushing a little and giggling, “i didn’t do it on purpose.”

“you really picked it without knowing?”

“well, i actually wanted to be the hulk at first, but one of the stylists suggested this instead, and i figured i would look more handsome this way so i went along with it.”

“was it the same stylist who went and got you?” something connects in eric’s mind.

“yeah, it was actually. wait, you don’t think—”

eric laughs and covers his face with a hand. “she definitely knows.”

“well, she seems supportive at least, right?” if the stylist had secretly set them up to have couple costumes, and known the exact person to call when eric was distressed, it definitely seemed like a gesture of support.

“yeah, i guess so.”

there’s a little moment of silence between them, a comfortable one, before sangyeon speaks.

“so, my princess, are you ready to go?” sangyeon holds out a hand, a glittering smile on his face, and eric places his hand elegantly into his. the sweetness in the way sangyeon calls him _his princess_ has his heart fluttering, and pink dusting his cheeks again.

eric nods, and sangyeon squeezes his palm tight. it’s the only reassurance he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! if you liked it, please consider leaving a kudos and a comment!
> 
> come talk to me!
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/hwallrics)


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